UC-NRLF 


$B    15S    372 


JOHN 

REND  RICK 

BANGS 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/echoesofcheerOObangrich 


OTHER  VERSES  BY  MR.  BANGS 


SoNOs  OF  Cheer  $1.00  net 

SHERMAN.  FRENCH  AND  COMPANY 
BOSTON,  MASSACHUSETTS 


ECHOES  OF  CHEER 


ES  ©F  CM  EI 
HNKENMICKMNG 


I 


Copyright,  1912 
Sherman,  French  &>  Company 


Titlk-Page  Design  By 
LUELLA  SHAYLER  HARMON 


95-3 


TO 

THE  ONLY  MUSE 

M.  G.  B. 


m5124:43 


CONTENTS 


PAOI 

INSPIRATION 1 

THE    IMMORTAL   MUSIC 2 

REPAYMENT 3 

THE  PATH 4 

BLIND 5 

ANOTHER  CHANCE 6 

ON  A  RAINY  DAY 7 

ALLEGIANCE 9 

TO  AN  ORCHID  IN  A  SHOP-WINDOW   ...  10 

TWO  LOVES 11 

FOR  LOVE  OF  SONG 12 

A   WISH 13 

A  WINTER  ROSE 14 

A  DISTINCTION 15 

THE  MIRACLE 16 

AS   TO   NOTHING 17 

GREETINGS 18 

OUT  OF  THE  DEPTHS 19 

LOVE'S  ABODE 20 

A  CALL 21 

ECHOES 22 

WISDOM 23 

A  CHALLENGE 24 

THE   VALET   OF  THE   LILY 25 

AS   TO  DESTINY 27 

SOMEONE'S  BIRTHDAY 28 

WHERE  THE  FUN  COMES  IN 29 

THE  OPTIMIST 30 


PAGE 

AN   AUTUMN   REVERIE 31 

AGE  AND  YOUTH 32 

AN  OASIS 33 

PAST,  PRESENT,  AND  FUTURE 34 

A  RECIPE 35 

AT   EVENTIDE 36 

TO   THE   TAX-ASSESSOR 37 

A  VICTORIOUS  SURRENDER 38 

THE  SIMPLER  JOYS 39 

THE  TREASURE  SEEKERS 40 

THE    AUCTION 41 

THE  USE   OF  LIFE 43 

SCABBARD   AND   SWORD 45 

THE  BECKONING  YEARS 46 

THE  GARDEN  OF  MY  DREAMS 48 

A  PROTEST 50 

A  PROPHECY 52 

THE    HUNTER 54 

HALLOWE'EN 66 

CHRISTMAS  DAY 58 

DISCOVERY 59 

THE  STORY  THAT  NEVER  ENDS   ....  61 

«ME    AND   MINE" 63 

ARCADY 65 


ECHOES  OF  CHEER 


INSPIRATION 

WHEN  Phyllis  lets  me  gaze  into  her  eyes. 
It  fills  my  soul  with  ever  fresh  surprise 
To  note  a  figure  small  deep-set  in  each, 
As    though    a    thousand    leagues    beyond    my 

reach. 
No  larger  than  the  tiniest  woodland  elf — 
Each  one  the  perfect  portrait  of  myself. 

The  perfect  portrait?     Nay!  I  would  'twere 

so, 
Rejoicing  in  that  soft  and  heavenly  glow 
That  hedges  them  about !     What  utter  bliss 
To  live,  and  be,  in  such  a  home  as  this, 
And  looking  out  from  it  each  day  to  see 
The  world  as  Phyllis  thinks  the  world  to  be! 

Ah,  well — let  it  be  mine  to  choose  my  way. 

Year  after  year,  through  every  passing  day. 

So  well,  in  truth,  that  as  this  world  appears 

To  her,  unsullied,  void  of  evil  fears. 

So  may  it  be  as  far  as  in  me  lies 

To  keep  it  as  it  seems  to  Phyllis'  eyes! 


[1] 


THE  IMMORTAL  MUSIC 

THE  soft,  sweet  notes  of  woodland  birds, 
The  crooning  of  the  lowing  herds, 
The  rustling  zephyrs  as  they  pass 
Across  the  tree-tops  and  lush  grass, 
The  humming  of  the  bees,  the  throng 
Of  insects  with  their  even-song, 
The  chirp  of  cricket,  and  the  note 
Of  tree-toads  on  the  air  afloat. 
The  monotones  of  waters  free. 
The  murmurs  of  the  forest  tree. 
The  rich  crescendos  of  the  gale. 
Staccato  of  the  rain  and  hail — 
These  are  the  songs  our  fathers  stirred; 
These  are  the  songs  that  Adam  heard; 
These  are  the  anthems  that  will  be 
Unchanged  through  all  eternity: 
The  Symphony  Divine  that  rolls 
From  Heaven  forth  to  human  souls. 
To  cheer  the  heart,  and  ease  earth's  strife 
With  promise   of  immortal  life. 


[2] 


REPAYMENT 

THAT  part  of  me  that  from  the  earth  hath 
come 
Let  earth  take  back  again  when  comes  the  hour 
That  marks  of  my  achievement  the  full  sum, 
And  sets  the  limit  to  my  meed  of  power, 

I  grudge  no  bit  of  it!     The  loan  of  clay 
That  from  earth's  breast  I've  ta'en  I  shall  re- 
turn, 
And  have  no  least  reluctance  to  repay, 
Nor  ever  think  the  debt  incurred  to  spurn. 

But  that  which  of  the  Spirit  is  in  me 
Let  no  earth-creditor  of  me  demand : 
To  earth  give  earth's,  to  Immortality 
The  gifts  divine  from  the  Immortal  Hand. 


[3] 


THE  PATH 

1  DREAMED  a  fair,  sweet  realm 
Where  all  was  Constancy ; 
With  Virtue  at  the  helm, 

And  every  Soul  was  free. 
Peace  smiled  upon  broad  fields 

From  Hope's  fair  skies  above. 
And  all  men  toiled  for  yields 
Of  Helpfulness  and  Love, 

All  eyes  spoke  Confidence. 

The   prospect,    sweeping,   wide, 
Breathed  God's  munificence 

And  care  on  every  side. 
Grim  Poverty  was  gone. 

Gone  Worry  and  Distress, 
And  over  all  there  shone 

The  Light  of  Kindliness. 

And  then  I  woke  to  find 

I  held  Life's   Golden  Key. 
Mine  eyes  that  had  been  blind 
Were  opened  and  could  see: 
Who  love  of  service  hath. 
In  faith,  without  allot/. 
Will  find  the  blessed  path 
Unto  the  realm  of  Joy! 


[4] 


BLIND 

C  i  QHOW  mc  your  God !"  the  Doubter  cries. 

O     I  point  him  out  the  smiling  skies ; 
I  show  him  all  the  woodland  greens; 
I  show  him  peaceful  sylvan   scenes; 
I  show  him  winter  snows  and  frost; 
I  show  him  waters  tempest-tost; 
I   show   him   hills    rock-ribbed   and   strong; 
I  bid  him  hear  the  thrush's  song; 
I  show  him  flowers  in  the  close — 
The  lily,  violet,  and  rose; 
I  show  him  rivers,  babbling  streams ; 
I  show  him  youthful  hopes  and  dreams ; 
I  show  him  maids  with  eager  hearts ; 
I  show  him  toilers  in  the  marts ; 
I  show  him  stars,  the  moon,  the  sun; 
I  show  him  deeds  of  kindness  done; 
I  show  him  joy,  I  show  him  care, 
And  still  he  holds  his  doubting  air, 
And  faithless  goes  his  way,  for  he 
Is  blind  of  soul,  and  cannot  see! 


[6] 


ANOTHER  CHANCE 

I   WOULD  that  there  might  be 
Two  lives  on  earth 
For  those  of  us  who  see 
Too  late  its  worth. 

The  first,  a  study  hour 

To  learn  its  ways; 
To  comprehend  the  power 

Of  passing  days. 

To  find  Life's  deepest  reach — 

The  things  that  give 
The  Soul  its  strength,  and  teach 

Us  how  to  live. 

The  second,  that  the  Soul 

May  nobly  rise 
Prepared  to  win  the  goal 

Where  Honor  lies. 

What  joy  to  know  'mid  all 

Life's  stress  and  pain 
We  but  await  the  call 

To  try  again! 


[6] 


ON  A  RAINY  DAY 

PUTTERIN'  around  the  house- 
That's  a  heap  o'  fun ! 
Sort  o'  snoopin'  like  a  mouse, 

Nothin'  to  be  done 
That  ye  have  to  do  at  all, 

But  jest  lookin'  round, 
In  the  attic  and  the  hall. 
For  what  may  be  found. 

While  the  rain  is  comin'  down 

With  its  patter  song. 
In  an  easy  dressin'-gown, 

Putterin'  along — 
Nothin'  "must"   about  the  game. 

Not  a   single  rule; 
Idlin'  like  a  dancin'  flame 

On  the  log  of  Yule. 

Mercy !     All  the  things  ye  find — 

Letters  old  and  sere 
Bringin'  back  into  your  mind 

Folks  no  longer  here ; 
Pictures  of  your  school-boy  pals 

In  the  days   gone  by; 
Tin-types  of  the  roguish  gals 

Useter  make  ye  sigh  1 


[7] 


Old  and  yellow  papers  of 

Some  forgotten  day ; 
Old  forgotten  tales  of  love 

Long  since  passed  away — 
Maybe  just  a  ribbon  blue 

Tangled  up  with  tears 
Bringin'  back  somebody  you 

Loved  in  Yesteryears. 

Yes,  indeed,  the  drops  of  rain 

As  they  fall  outside 
Help  to  pleasure  and  to  pain, 

Humbleness  and  pride, 
When  ye  putter  round  the  house 

In  your  dressin'-gown. 
Like  a  snoopin'  little  mouse. 

While  it's  comin'  down. 


[8] 


ALLEGIANCE 

AGE  called  for  him  and  bade  him  come  along 
And    join    the    hoary-headed,    faltering 
throng 
That  staggered  down  the  hills  of  Life,  but  he 
Though  smiling  welcome,  full  of  courtesy, 
Replied,  "Ah,  no! 
I  shall  not  go. 
'Tis  true  my  brow  is  furrowed  deep  with  care. 
And  white  as  winter's  drifting  snow  my  hair; 
Mine  eyes  and  step,  they  too  have  feebler  grown, 
And  but  few  days  remain  to  call  my  own, 
Yet  there  is  that  within  my  soul  to-day 

That  bids  me  tell  thee  Nay ! 
Thou  hast  indeed  won  o'er  the  major  part, 
But   Youth    still   rules    the    Kingdom    of   my 
Heart!" 


[9] 


TO  AN  ORCHID  IN  A  SHOP-WINDOW 

POOR  fragile  creature !  Butterfly  of  flowers, 
Thy  span  of  life  at  most  a  few  short 
hours, 
What  shame  to  hold  thee  in  a  prison  pent. 
Thy  beauty  wasted  on  a  City  lane, 
Unheeded    by   the   throngs    of   Toil   and 
Pain, 
Like  some  poor  Poet  in  a  tenement! 


[10] 


TWO  LOVES 

I  LOVE  the  town  because  I  love  my  fellow- 
men. 
Their  handiwork  in  admiration  high  I  hold. 
Their   feats   of  wondrous   strength,  in  science 
past  my  ken, 
Their   winding  boulevards,  and  towers  tall 
and  bold. 
All  awe  my  spirit  as  I  wander  idly  on; 

All  breathe  to  me  a  sense  of  striving,  brawn 
and  brain, 
And  tell  a  tale  of  vast  achievement  nobly  won 
From  bitter   struggles  weft  of  unremitting 
pain. 

And  yet  when  through  the  peaceful  country- 
side I  roam, 
Past  richly  verdured  hills,  through  forests 
green    and   deep. 
When  from  some  mountain  height  beneath  the 
vaulted  dome 
Mine  eye  takes  in  the  glory  of  that  far-flung 
sweep. 
My  heart  from  cities  turns,  and  all  my  being 
thrills 
With  love,  and  buoyant  joy,  and  peace,  and 
ecstasy — 
The  town  is  Man's  and  mortal,  but  the  dales 
and  hills 
Immortal  are  and  whisper  of  Divinity! 

[11] 


FOR  LOVE  OF  SONG 

WHAT  though  your  songs  remain  unheard? 
Unheeded  lie  of  all? 
Think  you  that  yonder  lyric  bird 
For  this  would  cease  his  call? 

He  sings  because  he  loves  to  sound 
His   measures   through   the   dell, 

Nor  cares  if  he  be  never  crowned 
Because  he  sings  them  well. 

So  sings  the  Poet  true  alway, 

Like  bird  upon  the  wing, 
Who  cares  not  for  the  praise,  or  bay, 

But  merely  loves  to  sing. 


[12] 


M 


A  WISH 

Y  very  soul  I'd  give 
To  write  a  line  to  live 
Forever  and  for  aye, 
For  in  that  single  line 
This  bartered  soul  of  mine 
Would   dwell,   and   dwelling  there,   would   live 
alway ! 


[13] 


A  WINTER  ROSE 

BLOOMED  a  rose  one  winter's  day- 
Seemed  to  think  that  it  was  May. 
Took  it,  I,  to  one  I  know, 
One  who   sets   my  heart   aglow, 
Who  received  it  with  a  sigh, 
Held  it  close  and  tenderly. 
Placed  it  softly  on  her  breast; 
And  the  flower  there  at  rest 
Till  it  breathed  its  life  away 
Never  knew  it  was  not  May! 


[14] 


A  DISTINCTION 

FAME'S  very  sweet,  yet  we  should  careful  be 
That  it  is  Fame,  not  Notoriety. 
'Tis  satisfaction  small,  none  can  deny, 
To  be  a  cinder  in  the  Public  Eye. 


[15] 


THE  MIRACLE 

WHENE'ER  I  find  my  Faith  grown  dim, 
And  all  my  paths  seem  dark  and  grim 
I  look  about  me  for  a  sign 
Of  things  divine, 
And  somewhere  I  am  sure  to  see 
One  thing  that  brings  it  back  to  me: 
The  love  of  Mother  for  her  child; 
A  wooer  by  a  maid  beguiled; 
The  bond  between  two  spirits  gray 
Who  hand  in  hand  have  walked  the  way 
From  Youth  to  Age,  and  still  hold  fast 
Upon  the  love  of  days  long  past; 
The  tender  sympathy  of  Man 
For  Brothers  in  the  human  clan — 
Love  is  the  Miracle  I  see 
That  brings  my  Faith  back  unto  me. 


[16] 


AS  TO  NOTHING 

WHO  Nothing  hath  smiles  grimly  at  dis- 
tress, 
And  cries,  "I've  naught  to  lose!"  Yet,  if  he 
press 
On  toward  the  height 
He'll  find  he  is  not  right — 
With  effort  he  may  lose  his  Nothingness! 


[17] 


GREETINGS 

A  BUTTERFLY  came  by  to-day, 
And  I  was  glad  to  see 
That  as  he  sped  along  his  way 
He  waved  his  wings  at  me. 

The  apple-blossoms  rarely  white 

As  I  went  idly  on 
Gave  me  a  greeting  of  delight 

With  promised  sweets  anon. 

Deep  in  the  wood  a  silver  brook 

Ran  carolling  along, 
And  from  his  fern-embedded  nook 

Sent  me  a  gift  of  song. 

[A.  lark  flew  through  the  upper  air, 
And  with  his  high  note  clear 

Bade  me  dismiss  all  thoughts  of  care 
And  think  alone  of  cheer. 


[18] 


OUT  OF  THE  DEPTHS 

I   SEE  the  plough  cleave  through  the  field, 
The  harrow  scar  the  earth  with  pain, 
And  from  the  wound  there  springs  a  yield, 
A  harvest   rich  of  golden  grain. 

I  see  a  soul  by  sorrow  seared, 

A   heart    'whelmed   by    the   harrower,j 
And  from  the  seeming  ruin  reared 
The  perfect  sheaf  of  Character! 


[19] 


LOVE'S  ABODE 

LOVE  calls  at  will  on  all  who'll  let  him  in. 
He  carries  lavish  gifts  that  all  may  win. 
Should  you  be  out  when  he  doth  call  some  day, 
Or  pass  him  by  unknowing  on  the  way, 
Come  hither  and  his  smiling  face  you'll  see — 
I'm  glad  to  say  that  he  abides  with  me. 


[20] 


A  CALL 

OCOME,  let's  all  be  Poets! 
What  though  we  cannot  rhyme? 
'Tis  easy  when  we  know  it's 

Just   singing  all   the   time; 
Just  sounding  on  the  tabor 

God   places   in   our  hearts, 
And  taking  to  our  neighbor 
The  message  He  imparts. 


[21] 


ECHOES 

I  WONDER  if  the  Heart  is  not 
The  place  where  Echo  dwells- 
Like  some  secluded  peaceful  spot 
Deep-thrilled  with  mystic  spells. 

The  Songs  of  Long  Ago  I  seem 

To  hear  again  within; 
And  voices  passed  into  a  dream 

Anew  their  measures  spin. 

The  words  of  Poets  passed  away 
Still  sound  their  numbers  there, 

And  turn  the  darkest,  dullest,  day 
To  hours  of  pleasure  rare. 

And  now  and  then  there  comes  to  me 
Deep  in  this  Heart  of  mine 

An  echoing  sense  of  Mystery 
That  hints  of  things  Divine. 


[22] 


WISDOM 

IF  ever  I  am  wise 
May  it  not  be  from  books, 
But  from  the  friendly  skies, 

The  mountains,  and  the  brooks- 
Or  possibly  from  eyes 

Through  which  a  lover  looks! 

No  page  confined  thought 
May  this  my  wisdom  be, 

But  that  by  Nature  wrought 
In  hill,  and  dale,  and  sea — 

With   little   flashes    fraught 
With  Love's  divinity. 


[23] 


A  CHALLENGE 

4  (  /^  OME  Worry,  let  us  walk  abroad  to-day. 

^"^     Let's  take  a  little  run  along  the  way. 

I  know  a  sunny  path  that  leads  from  Fear 

Up  to  the  lovely  fields  of  Wholesome  Cheer. 

I'll  race  you  there!  I'm  feeling  fit  and  strong, 

So,  Worry,  come  along  1" 

We  started  on  our  way,  I  and  my  Care. 
I  set  the  pace  on  through  the  spring-time  air. 
But    ere    we'd    gone    a    mile    poor    Worry 

stopped. 
Tried  hard  to  catch  his  breath,  and  then  he 
dropped, 
Whilst  I  sped  on. 
An  easy;  winner  of  that  Marathon. 

And  since  that  day,  when  vexed  by  any  fear, 
When  Worry's  come  again  with  visage  drear, 
I've  challenged  him  to  join  me  in  that  race, 
And  found  each  time  he  could  not  stand  the 
pace! 


[24] 


THE  VALET  OF  THE  LILY 

MANY'S  the  task  that  I  have  had— 
Some  have  been  joyous,  others  sad; 
Some  have  been  easy,  by  the  card ; 
Others  at  times  have  tried  me  hard ; 
But  O  what  joy,  and  sunny  hours, 
To  act  as  Valet  to  the  Flowers! 

To  manicure  the  Roses'  stem, 
And  carry  water  unto  them! 
To  help  them  curl  their  petals  rare. 
And  keep  them  ever  fresh  and  fair — 
'Tis  sweet  indeed  to  use  one's  powers 
In  valetting  the  fragrant  Flowers! 

I  love  to  help  the  Garden  choose 
What  it  shall  wear,  and  what  its  hues; 
To  keep  the  Pansies'  faces  clean. 
And  trim  the  Hedge's  locks  of  green, 
And  ready  make  their  vernal  bowers 
For  the  receptions  of  the  Flowers. 

And  oh,  what  wages  rich  are  mine! 
Fresh  currency  from  bush  and  vine, 
All  promptly  paid  when  they  are  due 
In  coin  that  rings  forever  true — 
No  other  task  so  richly  dowers 
As  acting  Valet  to  the  Flowers! 

[25] 


A  smile  of  welcome  when  I  come ; 

A  hint  of  pleasures  frolicsome ; 

And  when  the  daily  task  is  done 

A  coat  of  tan — gift  of  the  Sun — 

And  health,  and  silvery  summer  showers, 

To  him  who  serves  the  gracious  Flowers  I 


[86] 


AS  TO  DESTINY 

IS  it  to  be  my  destiny 
Seeking  the  task  too  great  for  me? 
Finding  the  prizes  I  would  seek 
Ever  beyond,  on  some  far  peak 
Out  of  my  reach,  ne'er  to  be  won. 
E'en  when  at  last  my  course  is  run? 

Then  be  it  so!     'Tis  not  for  me 
Looking  for  flaws  in  destiny! 
Still  will  I  seek  those  prizes  vast 
Ever  beyond,  unwon  at  last! 
What  care  I  for  the  bitter  pace? 
Mine  is  the  solace  of  the  chase ! 

Joy  of  hope  that  illumes  despair ; 
Joy  of  conquering  woe  and  care ; 
Scent  of  battle,  the  upward  flight, 
On,  ever  onward  toward  the  height — 
These  all  are  mine,  let  destiny 
Hold  what  she  may  in  store  for  me ! 


[27] 


SOMEONE'S  BIRTHDAY 

TO-DAY  is  Someone's  Birthday.     Whose 
Is  all  unknown  to  me, 
But  I  beseech  thee,  O  my  Muse, 
All  kindliness  to  be. 

O  make  it  bright,  and  richly  lade 
With  life's  best  blessings,  pray, 

For  lad  or  lassie,  man  or  maid, 
Who  celebrates  to-day. 

If  there  be  tears  in  any  eyes. 

Or  griefs  that  stir  the  soul, 
Place  o'er  them  thy  most  smiling  skies. 

And  ease  the  pangs  of  dole. 

If  there  be  cares  that  vex  the  mind. 

Or  trials  in  the  heart, 
O  Day,  be  gloriously  kind, 

And  bid  all  woe  depart. 

Upon  a  bitter  past  the  Gates 

Of  Lethe  close,  and  ope 
The  Golden  Doors  to  the  Estates 

Of  Peace,  and  Rest,  and  Hope ! 


[28] 


WHERE  THE  FUN   COMES   IN 

TO  hev  all  things  ain't  suited  to  my  mind, 
Per,  as  I  go  my  way,  I  seem  to  find 
That  half  the  fun  o'  life  is  wantin'  things, 
And  t'other  half  is  gittin'  'em,  by  Jings ! 


[2^1 


THE  OPTIMIST 

CARE  came  first  and  laid  his  siege, 
Laid  his  siege  at  my  front-door; 
Then  the  Wolf,  the  Lord  and  Liege 

Of  all  Trouble,  brought  his  score. 
Well,  I  "sicked"  the  Wolf  on  Care- 
Wolf  was  hungry  past  all  doubt ; 
Chewed  old  Care  up  hide  and  hair, 
Left  no  sign  of  him  about. 

Then  I  took  my  faithful  gun, 

Cheerfulness,  from  off  the  rack; 
Loaded  it  with  Wholesome  Fun, 

Let  Wolf  have  it  front  and  back. 
Made  a  fur  coat  of  his  hide — 

He  was  quite  a  shaggy  beast — 
And  the  rest  of  him  we  fried 

For  our  glad  Thanksgiving  Feast. 


[30] 


AN  AUTUMN  REVERIE 

T^THEN  Autumn  breezes  'gin  to  howl 
V  V       About  the  chimney-pots, 
And  all  the  kine,  and  all  the  fowl. 

Seek  out  the  sheltered  spots, 
I  like  to  sit  before  the  blaze 

And  toast  my  shins  and  toes, 
The  while  the  wind  its  roundelays 

About  the  roof-tree  blows. 

I  love  to  hear  the  windows  shake. 

And  listen  to  the  sound 
The  rattling  panes  and  sashes  make 

As  zephyrs  frisk  around. 
I  love  to  listen  to  the  tune 

Of  breezes  in  the  eaves, 
Commingled  with  the  soothing  croon 

Of  crackling  autumn  leaves. 

And  when  the  logs  begin  to  hiss  • 

And  sputter  in  their  ire, 
I  taste  the  joys  of  perfect  bliss 

While  sitting  by  the  fire. 
For  there  it  seems  as  though  the  Wood 

Were  sending  messages 
To  one  who  shared  and  understood 

Its  reminiscences. 


[31] 


AGE  AND  YOUTH 

YOUTH     takes     its     joys     from     hopeful 
dreams 
Of  future  prizes  to  be  won, 
Of  voyages  on  unknown  streams 
In  realms  beyond  the  rising  sun. 

But  Age,  reflective  Age,  delights 
E'en  in  the  twilight's  fading  rays 

In  turning  to  the  joyous  sights 
Of  unforgotten  yesterdays. 

I  know  not  which  more  joy  imparts, 

Which  holds  the  greater  thrill,  the  page 

That  tells  of  Hope  in  youthful  hearts. 
Or  tender  memories  of  age. 


[32] 


AN  OASIS 

OFT  in  the  City's  byways  grim 
Where  j  oy  seemed  dead,  and  hope  grown 
dim, 
The  laughter  of  a  child  at  play 
Has  driven  darkling  thoughts  away. 
Poor  laddy!     Doomed  to  find  your  joys 
In  sun-baked  canons ;  'mid  the  noise 
Of  barter  and  inhuman  strife — 
To  pass  the  Maytime  of  your  life ! 
Perhaps  this  is  your  message  here, 
To  bring  relief  and  notes  of  cheer. 
Like  an  oasis 
In  desert  places ! 


[33] 


PAST,  PRESENT,  AND  FUTURE 

?  riniS  mighty  pleasant  looking  back 

JL    Through  sunny  vistas  on  life's  track. 
It  sets  the  heart  to  beating  fast 
To  see  those  visions  of  the  past, 
To  hear  once  more  the  roundelays 
Of  Childhood  days. 

'Tis  fine  indeed  to  look  ahead 
To  see  the  prizes  richly  spread 
Upon   the    gleaming  banquet-board, 
Perhaps  our  own  deserved  reward. 
For  these  are  fair,  e'en  though  unwon. 
To  look  upon. 

The  past  is  full  of  sweetness  true. 
The  skies  of  days  to  come  are  blue. 
Both  prospects  thrill,  and  yet  I  look 
Within  no  past  or  future  book. 
So  many  treasures  can  be  found 
By  looking  round. 


[34] 


A  RECIPE 

THE  Recipe  of  Youth  I've  found  at  last, 
And  deeply  of  it  now  I'm  daily  drinking  i 
A  thimbleful  of  Boyhood   from  the  past, 
To  one  full  quart  of  happy  cheerful  think- 
ing. 


[35] 


AT  EVENTIDE 

YES,  the  sun  is  going, 
Going,  going  down. 
Eventide  is  throwing 
Shadows  o'er  the  town ; 

And  the  stars  a-gleaming. 

Gleaming  over  all 
Unto  rest  and  dreaming 

Soon  will  sound  the  call; 

And  the  soft  night  creeping, 
Creeping  o'er  the  way. 

Guards  us,  guides  us  sleeping 
Back  again  to  day  I 


[36] 


TO  THE  TAX-ASSESSOR 

COME,  O  Tax-Assessor  Man, 
Get  your  taxes  if  you  can. 
Here's  the  list  of  property 
Now  belonging  unto  me : 

One  small  home  you  may  behold 

Worthier  than  celestial  gold ; 

One  large  heart  in  which  there  lies 

All  the  bliss  of  Paradise ; 

Love  of  children  in  great  store ; 

Friendships  reckoned  by  the  score; 

Peaceful  nights,  and  busy  days; 

Right  of  way  o'er  golden  ways; 

Jewelled  sunsets,  rippling  seas. 

Starry  skies,  and  cooling  breeze; 

Acres  broad  in  Fancy's  realm; 

Ships  with  young  Love  at  the  helm ; 

Freedom  of  the  firmament; 

Endless  stock  of  sweet  content; 

Faith  in  God,  and  sturdy  health — 

Thus  is  itemized  my  wealth ! 

Come,   O   Tax-Assessor-Man — 
State  their  value  if  you  can, 
And  whatever  tax  you  lay 
I  will  without  protest  pay. 
On  my   store  of  Treasure-trove 
In  the  currency  of  Love. 

[37] 


A  VICTORIOUS  SURRENDER 

I'M   praying   for   clear   weather. 
The  farmer  prays  for  rain. 
I'm   thinking  of  the   heather. 
He's  thinking  of  his  grain. 
He  thinks  he  needs  the  water 

To  make  the  harvest  fair. 

I  think  of  someone's  daughter 

Who's  waiting  over  there. 

The  point  I've  puzzled  over 

All  through  the  longish  night, 
The  farmer  or  the  lover — 

Which  has  the  greater  right? 
'Twixt  bread  and  love,  I  wonder. 

Which  serves  mankind  the  best? 
The  more  and  more  I  ponder 

The  harder  seems  my  quest. 

Bread  without  love — what  is  it? 

Love  without  bread?     Well,  now 
Bring  on  your  rain — I'll  visit 

Myrtilla   anyhow ! 
And  though  the  Atlantic  Ocean 

Shall  come  down  from  the  skies, 
My  weather,  I've  a  notion, 

I'll  find  deep  in  her  eyes. 


[38] 


THE  SIMPLER  JOYS 

THERE'S    joy    no    doubt    in    complicated 
things. 
Much  happiness  I  trow  may  come  to  Kings 
Who  know  not  play,  nor  romp, 
But  live  in  frigid  pomp. 
But  when   at  dawn  my   friend  who   sporteth 

wings 
Taps  on  my  window-pane,  and  gaily  sings 
His  roundelay,  I  would  not  change  my  lot 
For  all  the  treasure  that  the  King  hath  got ! 

There's  much  of  pleasure  in  great  stores  of 

wealth 
If  they  be  won  by  effort,  not  by  stealth, 
By  billionaires  and  such 
Who  have  the  Midas  touch, 
But  when  I  feel  within  the  stir  of  health 
That  sets  me  high  in  Nature's  Commonwealth, 
For  all  the  stores  of  Croesus,  and  his  line, 
I'd  not  exchange  the  treasure  that  is  mine. 

To  joy  in  all  things  good,  whate'er  they  be; 
To  joy  in  earth,  the  heavens,  and  the  sea, 
And   find   in   simple   ways 
The  riches  of  my  days — 
That  is  the  test  of  happiness  for  me; 
That  is  the  measure  of  the  life  that's  free. 
Let  others  choose  the  bauble  with  its  care — 
I'll  live,  and  be  contented  with  my  share. 
[39] 


THE  TREASURE  SEEKERS 

ONE  sought  the  East  for  gems,  and  found, 
alas. 
Dire  failure  was  his  most  unhappy  pass. 
One  sought  for  pearls  in  waters  of  the  Ind, 
And  sank  a  victim  of  the  seas  and  wind. 
Another  sought  the  gold  that  glitters  free 
Upon  the  strands  far  in  the  Northern  sea, 
And  on  the  beaches  of  that  land  of  white 
His  bones  lie  resting  in  the  endless  night. 
A  fourth  plunged  in  the  nearer  fray  to  win 
The  gaudy  raiment  that  the  Trade  Elves  spin, 
And  at  the  last  found  coffers  full  of  dross — 
The  gold  was  profit,  but  his  soul  was  loss! 

For  me,  in  Fortune's  strife,  give  me  the  part 
Of  him  that  delves  deep  in  the  Mines  of  Heart — 
Not  far  afield,  but  here  let  me  secure 
From  them  that  love  me  treasures  that  endure ! 


[40] 


THE  AUCTION 

HERE  is  Polly's  heart  for  sale — 
Highest  bidder  wins! 
Speak  up,  O  ye  timid  male, 

Time  the  flying  spins. 
What's  your  offer  for  a  heart 

Warm  and  full  of  cheer? 
Let  us  have  a  bid  to  start ! 
What's  the  bid  I  hear? 

LANDS?      The  bid  is  lands,  my  friends — 

Acres,  broad  and  fine; 
Full  of  teeming  dividends 

In  the  harvest  line. 
Any  higher  bid  ?     .     .     .     O  fie ! 

What  a  sleepy  band! 
GOING,  GOING,  GOING— My! 

Heart  like  this   for  LAND? 

What?     A  bid  of  GOLD?     Aha! 

That's  the  way  to  bid. 
Better  than  mere  acres,  far. 

That  cannot  be  hid. 
Yet,  who'd  win  a  heart  like  this 

With  a  lump  of  gold? 
GOING,  GOING— shame  it  is 

If  it  thus  were  sold! 


[41] 


Ah !  Another  bid  comes  in. 

Speak  up  louder — FAME? 
Here's  a  bidder  hopes  to  win 

With  a  gilded  name. 
But  for  hearts  so  warm  and  true 

That's  a  trifle  low. 
GOING— GOING!      Really  you 

Should  not  let  it  go! 

GOING — GOING!     Now,  see  here, 

This  is  bargain  day. 
Win  a  heart  so  full  of  cheer 

With  a  bit  of  bay? 
Really — what's   that?     Speak   up   clear- 

Ah!     We're   getting   on! 
LOVE'S   the  highest  bid  I  hear — 

GOING- 
GOING— 

GONE! 


[42] 


H 


THE  USE  OF  LIFE 

E'D  never  heard  of  Phideas, 
He'd  never  heard  of  Byron ; 
His   tastes  were  not  fastidious, 
His  soul  was  not  aspirin' — 
But  he   could  tell   you   what   the   birds   were 

whispering   in    the    trees ; 
And  he  could  find  sweet  music  in  the  sounding 
of  the  seas; 
And  he  could  joy  in  wintry  snows, 

And  summer's   sunny  weather, 
And  tell  you  all  the  names  of  those 
That  frolic  in  the  heather. 

He'd  never  heard  of  Socrates; 
He'd  never  heard  of  Irving; 
He  loved  the  mediocrities 
Much  more  than  the  deserving — 
But  when  the  frost  was  in  the  air  he  knew  the 

fox's  hole; 
The  haunt  of  deer  and  beaver,  and  the  wood- 
chuck  and  the  mole; 
And  he  could  joy  in  arching  trees, 

In  Heavens  blue,  or  starlit. 
And  in  the  cold  crisp  autumn  breeze 
That  paints  the  country  scarlet. 


[*3] 


He  nothing   knew    of   sciences, 
Of  art,  or  eke  of  letters; 
Nor  of  those  strange  appliances 
That  fill  the  world  with  debtors — 
But    happiness    he    knew    right    well.     He'd 

learned  from  A  to  Z 
The  art  of  filling  life  with  song,  and  others* 
souls  with  glee; 
And  he  could  j  oy  in  day  and  night, 

Heart  full  of  pure  Thanksgiving — 
I  am  not  sure  he  was  not  right 
In  using  Life  for  living  1 


[44] 


SCABBARD  AND  SWORD 

THE  scabbard  is  worn, 
But  the  sword  is  bright. 
The   sheath's   forlorn, 
And  a  sorry  sight. 

But  the  blade  is  keen 
And  its  edge  holds  true, 

And  it  cuts  as  clean 
As  it  used  to  do. 

And  the  point  is  fine, 
And  the  steel  is  fair, 

And  it  cleaves  the  line 
To  a  breadth  of  hair. 

It  is  thus  the  Heart 

In  the  days  untold 
Will  bear  its  part 

Though  the  sheath  be  old. 


[45] 


THE  BECKONING  YEARS 

THE  beckoning  years  are  calling  to  me; 
They've   beckoned,   and  beckoned,   since 

infancy. 
And  they  seemed  to  say 
In  that  childhood  day, 
"Come  hither  and  play,  come  play!" 

And  I  played  with  them,  and  I  romped  along 
With  a  joyous  heart  full  of  heedless  song; 

And  the  years  flew  by 

With  never  a  sigh, 
Until  Youth,  dear  Youth  drew  nigh. 

"Come  hither  and  learn !"  was  their  new  refrain. 
I  followed  them  over  the  road  again 
That  heroes  galore 
In  the  days  of  yore 
Had  travailed  and  struggled  o'er. 

Then  the  urgent  seasons,  once  fresh  and  green. 
Took  on  a  more  grave  and  serious  mien. 

And  one  after  one 

Commanded,  "My  son. 
Let  labor  be  now  begun!" 

And  I  ceased  my  play,  and  I  turned  to  toil. 
And  I  strove  for  fame,  and  struggled  for  spoil ; 
But  the  beckoning  crew 
Still  further  drew 
Me  on  to  a  love  that's  true. 
[46] 


And  the  years  flew  by  and  they  beckoned  still, 
And  they  urged  to  good,  and  they  lured  to  ill. 

Like  the  autumn  leaf, 

Or  the  withered  sheaf, 
They  whispered  of  joy  and  grief. 

And  I  grieved  and  grieved  till  my  heart  was 

sore. 
And  I  joyed  with  a  joy  that  was  brimming 
o'er. 
All  at  their  behest. 
And  now  as  their  guest 
They  beckon  me  on  to  rest! 

The  peace  of  the  childhood  days  was  rare! 
The  joys   of  the  labor  and  love  were  fair — 

For  my  smiles  and  tears, 

For  my  hopes  and  fears, 
I  bless  the  beckoning  years! 


[47] 


THE  GARDEN  OF  MY  DREAMS 

^nniS  true  I  love  that  Garden  fair 

A       In  which  I  labor  day  by  day, 
'Tis  happiness  to  lavish  there 
Such  constant  watchfulness  and  care 

The  while  the  budding  posies  play ; 
And  yet  there  is  another  spot 

Wherein  the  sun  more  brightly  gleams, 
Where  weed  and  blighting  cometh  not, 
A  never-fading  floral  plot — 

The  wondrous  Garden  of  my  Dreams ! 

'Tis  guarded  both  by  day  and  night 

By  graceful  sun-flowers,  golden  warm, 
From  which  there  streams  a  wealth  of  light 
That  keeps  it  ever  fresh  and  bright, 

And  drives  away  the  gloom  of  storm; 
And  scores  of  little  blue-bells  near. 

While  smiling  pansies  spout  their  rhymes. 
Beat  time  to  music,  soft  and  clear. 
That  rings  out  on  the  atmosphere 

Like  Fairyland's  Cathedral  chimes. 

The  roses  when  they  see  me  come 

Raise  up  their  pretty  heads  and  smile, 

And  burst  into  a  merry  hum 

As  though  they  thought  that  I  were  some 
Good  friend  who'd  been  away  awhile ; 

[48] 


And  each  forget-me-not  I  see 

At  hide-and-seek  in  that  rare  place 
Brings  back  the  memory  to  me 
Of  loving  smiles  that  used  to  be 
On  some  beloved  face. 

Dear  Garden  of  my  Dreams  I     How  blest 

Art  thou!     How  fragrant  and  how  fair! 
I'm  always  glad  to  go  to  rest, 
And  call  the  Sandman  welcome  guest 
Who  nightly  comes  to  lead  me  there! 


[49] 


A  PROTEST 

1WISH  some  big  Policeman  might 
Take  note  of  Father  Time, 
Who  runs  along  by  day  and  night 

At  speed  that  is  a  crime. 
Why  here  at  fifty  years  am  I 

With  heart  so  full  of  joy 
That  it  were  useless  to  deny 
I'm  aught  but  just  a  boy! 

'Tis  hardly  fair  to  go  so  fast 

That  one  runs  into  age 
Before  his  spirit's  really  passed 

The  knickerbocker  stage; 
To  have  to  wear  the  dignity 

Of  Solons  grave  and  sad 
Before  one's  really  ceased  to  be 

A  frisky,  romping  lad. 

I  want  to  shout,  and  sing,  and  dance. 

I  want  to  frisk  and  play. 
I  want  to  go  outside  and  prance 

Along  the  broad  highway. 
I  want  to  make  strange  noises,  but 

In  spite  of  all  I  plan. 
Sedately  on  my  way  I  strut. 

An  old  stiff-mannered  man ! 


[50] 


Time  plays  us  tricks — no  doubt  of  that. 

He  robs  us  of  our  hair ; 
Some  folks  he  lays  out  wholly  flat 

With  grievous  gifts  of  care; 
But  worst  of  all  his  elfish  fleers, 

The  meanest  one,  in  truth, 
Is  when  he  puts  the  mask  of  Years 

Upon  the  face  of  Youth  I 


[51] 


N' 


A  PROPHECY 

O  Prophet,  I, 

And  yet  I  dare  to  prophesy 

This  coming  Spring 

The  birds  will  sing, 
And  from  her  tuneful  throat 

The  thrush's  note 
Will  ring; 
And  blossoms  fair  and  white 
Will  spring  forth  in  the  night, 
To  gladden  some  sweet  day. 

In  coming  May ; 

And  roses  rare 

Will  scent  the  air, 
While  frolic  bees  their  sweets  will  seize 
And  hide  them  in  the  forest  trees; 
And  silver  streams  will  dance  along. 
And  babble  forth  their  merry  song 

Of  mating  with  the  sea ; 
The  while  the  woodland  wild  will  teem 
With  wakings  from  a  wintry  dream, 

From   icy   fetters   free. 

Where  late  was  snow 

The  April  glow 
Of  genial  sun  will  melt  the  way 

That  violet  and  lily  pale 

May  find  again  the  ferny  vale, 


[52] 


And  Elfin  comrades  at  their  play. 
The  skies  above 
Will  whisper  love, 
And  with  their  dreamy  blue 
Will  put  to  rout 
The  hosts  of  Doubt 
And  Rue  I 


[53] 


THE  HUNTER 

WENT  out  shootin'  in  the  wood- 
My,  the  mornin'  air  was  good  1 
Sort  of  filled  your  soul  with  joy. 
Made  ye  feel  jest  like  a  boy. 
Made  ye  want  to  dance,  and  sing 
Like  a  wild-bird  on  the  wing. 

Soon  a  pattridge  come  along, 
Whirrin',  whirrin',  mighty  strong. 
Had  my  gun  acrost  a  rail. 
And  a  bead  that  couldn't  fail, 
But,  by  Jings,  I  felt  so  full 
Ne'er  a  trigger  could  I  pull! 

Later  on  I  found  a  track 
Leadin'  through  the  piney  black. 
Surest  thing  ye  ever  knew — 
Mr.  Fox  had  jest  been  through — 
Trailed  him  squarely  to  his  hole — 
Couldn't  shoot  to  save  my  soul ! 

'N'en  I  heerd  a  tromplin'  sound. 
Like  a  big  deer  some'ers  round; 
'N'en  a  cracklin'  in  the  bush, 
'N'en  a  sudden  sort  o'  hush. 
An'  a  pair  o'  starin'  eyes 
Soft  as  ever  summer  skies. 

[54] 


Shoot  him?     I'd  as  soon  ha'  shot 

Sleepin'  babies  in  a  cot. 

Kill  him?     With  two  eyes  a-beam 

With  a  sort  o'  friendly  gleam? 

Nary  kill  for  Mr.  Deer 

In  that  mornin'  atmosphere! 

So  it  went  the  whole  day  long. 
Somepin  sort  o'  went  all  wrong. 
Had  my  gun,  and  had  my  lead. 
Got  up  early  out  o'  bed 
For  to  land  a  lot  o'  things, 
And  jest  couldn't — no,  by  Jingsl 


[55] 


HALLOWE'EN, 

BRING  forth  the  raisins  and  the  nuts — 
To-night  All-Hallow's  Spectre  struts 
Along  the  moonlit  way. 
No  time  is  this  for  tear  or  sob, 
Or  other  woes  our  joys  to  rob, 
But  night  for  pippin  and  for  bob. 
And  Jack-o'-Lantern  gay. 

Come  forth  ye  lass  and  trousered  kid, 
From  prisoned  Mischief  raise  the  lid. 

And  lift  it  good  and  high. 
Leave  grave  old  Wisdom  in  the  lurch, 
Set  Folly  on  a  lofty  perch, 
Nor  fear  the  awesome  rod  of  birch 

When  dawn  illumes  the  sky. 

'Tis  night  for  revel,  set  apart 
To  reillume  the  darkened  heart. 

And  rout  the  hosts  of  dole. 
'Tis  night  when  Goblin,  Elf,  and  Fay, 
Come  dancing  in  their  best  array, 
To  prank  and  royster  on  their  way. 

And  ease  the  troubled  soul. 


[56] 


The  ghosts  of  all  things  past  parade. 
Emerging  from  the  mist  and  shade 

That  hid  them  from  our  gaze; 
And  full  of  song,  and  ringing  mirth, 
In  one  glad  moment  of  rebirth, 
Again  they  walk  the  ways  of  earth 

As  in  the  ancient  days. 

The  beacon  light  shines  on  the  hill, 
The  will-o'-wisps  the  forests  fill 

With  flashes  filched  from  noon; 
And  witches  on  their  broom-sticks  spry 
Speed  here  and  yonder  in  the  sky, 
And   lift  their   strident  voices   high 

Unto  the  Hunter's  Moon. 

The  air  resounds  with  tuneful  notes 
From  myriads  of  straining  throats. 

All  hailing  Folly  Queen; 
So  join  the  swelling  choral  throng, 
Forget  your  sorrow,  and  your  wrong, 
In  one  glad  hour  of  joyous  song 

To  honor  Hallowe'en! 


[57] 


CHRISTMAS  DAY 

A   DAY  of  respite,  this ! 
A  day  of  purest  bliss 
Wherein  in  Love  to  plan 
Good-will  to  Man. 

A  Festival  of  Joys 
Wherein  no   thing   annoys; 
A  time  of  Cheer  and  Mirth, 
And  Peace  on  Earth. 

A  time  for  Smiles  and  play, 
And  yet  withal  a  day 
For  thoughtful  deeds,   and  good. 
Of  Brotherhood. 

A  day  for  sunny  rifts, 
A  day  for  loving  gifts, — 
For  Kindness  bounteous, 
God  gave  it  us. 


[58] 


DISCOVERY 

THE  fairest  voyage  man  can  make, 
Exploring  land  or  sea, 
Is  one  which  every  Spring  I  take — 

My  quest,  Discovery. 
I  do  not  seek  uncharted  lands. 

Or  continents  unknown — 
I  leave  that  sort  of  things  to  hands 
More  expert  than  my  own. 

The  things  I  seek  are  simple  things, 

And  simple  is  my  crew — 
Myself,  and  One  who  ever  sings 

A  song  that's   sweet  and  true; 
And  as  our  little  bark  doth  pass 

Along  some  sylvan  scene 
'Tis  fine  to  learn  anew  that  grass 

Is  tender,  lush  and  green. 

'Tis  joyous  to  discover,  too, 

The  while  we  drift  along, 
That  skies  and  seas  are  deeply  blue, 

That  birds  have  gift  of  song ; 
To  learn  again  that  little  bees 

Find  honey  in  the  flowers, 
And  that  rich  blossoms  deck  the  trees 

In  early  Springtime  hours; 


[59] 


That  wild-flowers  flirt  with  sunbeams  fair; 

And  in  the  garden-close 
The  fragrance  of  the  soft  spring  air 

Is  rifled  from  the  rose; 
To  learn  that  trout  lurk  in  the  pool, 

And  hear  amid  the  hush 
When  night  comes  on  with  shadows  cool 

The  Ijric  of  the  thrush! 


[60] 


THE  STORY  THAT  NEVER  ENDS 

HE  told  the  old,  old  story, 
And  told  it  mighty  well. 
Her  face  was  flushed  with  glory 
Beneath  its  magic  spell. 
To  her  'twas  fresh  and  novel ; 

To  her  'twas  new  and  sweet, 
And  glorified  the  hovel 

In  which  they  chanced  to  meet. 

She  gave  the  old,  old  answer — 

The  answer  Adam  got 
When  that  primeval  man,  sir. 

Asked  Eve  to  share  his  lot. 
Amid  the  same  old  blushes 

That  tinge   a  maiden's   cheek, 
Amid  the  same  old  hushes 

His  riches  he  did  seek. 

They  had  the  same  old  raptures 

That  to  the  lover  come 
When  his  successful  captures 

At  e'en  he  bringeth  home. 
And  soon  the  same  old  prattle 

Was  heard  within  their  door. 
And  still  the  same  old  rattle 

Upon  the  nursery  floor. 


[61] 


And  still  the  same  old  newness 

That  makes  the  old  things  fair. 
The  same  old  joys,  and  blueness, 

That  greet  us  everywhere. 
The  same  old  days  of  gladness, 

The  same  old  hours  of  grief; 
The  same  old  times  of  sadness, 

The  same  old  sweet  relief. 

The  same  old  spells  of  weather 

To  light  or  dim  the  day. 
The  same  old  age  together. 

The  same  old  locks   of  gray — 
And  though  old  things  pursue  them. 

The  eyes  they  see  them  through. 
Love-lit,  forever  view  them 

Imperishably  new! 


[62] 


«ME  AND  MINE'' 

IT'S  blitherin'  cold  outside, 
And  blowin'  to  beat  the  band ; 
And  snow  and  sleet  is  a-flyin'  wide 

Over  the  whole  broad  land. 
The  icicles  hang  from  the  eaves, 

And  the  ponds  and  the  brooks  is  froze; 
The  frost  has  withered  the  autumn  leaves 
And  bit  up  the  farmer's  nose — 
But  me  an'  mine 
Is  fcclin'  fine, 
So  what  do  we  care  for  snows? 

There  isn't  a  bird  in  sight. 

And  even  the  cat  stays  in, 
Descrtin'  the  joys  of  night, 

And  the  call  of  her  kith  and  kin. 
The  days  they  are  short  and  chill. 

The  nights  are  a  decade  long, 
And  out  on  the  bleak  and  distant  hill 

The  blizzard  is  goin'  strong — 
But  me  an'  mine 
Is  feelin'  fine. 

For  our  hearts  is  full  o'  song. 


[63] 


Her  heart  is   singin'  of  me, 

And  mine  is  singin'  of  her! 
No  thinkin'  of  what's  to  be, 

No  thinkin'  of  things  that  were, 
But  just  of  the  joys  that  is, 

Not  worried  'bout  things  that's  not; 
So  let  the  hoary  old  blizzard  blizz 

And  Boreas  go  it  hot — 
For  me  an'  mine 
Is  feelin'  fine. 
And  thankful  for  what  we've  got ! 


[64] 


ARCADY 

STARTED  out  for  Arcady, 
No  one  knew  the  way; 
Wandered  onward  wearily 

Through  the  dreary  day. 
Lost  my  bearings,  lost  my  chart, 

Troubles  round  me  pressed; 
Footsore,  weary,  faint  of  heart, 
Spirit  sore  distressed. 

Road  to  Fame  was  sweet  indeed, 

Road  to  Wealth  was  bold. 
But  the  laurel  turned  to  weed. 

And  the  gems  were  cold. 
Wealth  and  Honor  are  a  goal 

Fit  for  chivalry. 
But  they  never  lead  the  soul 

Into  Arcady, 

Suddenly   across  my  path 

Flashed  a  pair  of  eyes ! 
Oh,  such  eyes  as  Some  One  hath, 

Soft   as   summer  skies — 
Flashed  like  stars  of  summer  nights 

O'er  the  summer  sea. 
Quoth  my  heart,  "These  are  the  lights. 

Lights    of  Arcady!" 


[66] 


Came  the  note  of  Some  One's  voice 

Sounding  through  the  dark, 
Singing  numbers  rare  and  choice 

As  the  morning  lark. 
Fled  away  the  darkness  all 

As  it  came  to  me. 
Quoth  my  soul,  "This  is  the  call, 

Call  of  Arcady!" 

At  my  threshold,  waiting  there, 

Radiant   with   grace. 
Glint  of  gold  upon  her  hair. 

Sunshine  in  her  face; 
Dancing  gaily  as  a  gnome, 

Arms  stretched  forth  for  me — 
Then  it  was  I  knew  that  Home, 

Home  was  Arcady! 


[66] 


3y? 


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YC148191 


